


Seriously?

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Porthos blows out a long breath and says, voice tight, “Out of all the people in Paris, you can’t be serious about this.” (Coda fic for 3x02)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr for the prompt, "Porthos catches Aramis checking out /Tréville/ after their return, to his (Porthos's) increasing discomfort. Finally he tells Aramis to cut it out; OF ALL THE PEOPLE IN FRANCE, REALLY. Aramis confesses it's just the uniform, it'd make anyone look gorgeous. Porthos ends up borrowing it for a while."

“You can’t be serious.” 

Porthos’ debated about how to approach it, and this is just about the best way he can think of. There’s no sense in letting it play out or letting it stew. He’s tired of feeling bitter and upset when it comes to Aramis – and they’ve been making good strides ever since returning home to Paris. But no matter how he looks at it, it’s an awkward situation he’s about to enter into. Made more awkward because it’s _Aramis_ and they’re finally on good terms again after so many years, after so many years apart and longing and waiting and wishing. And he’s known how Aramis is for ages, long before any of this. But this—

“Hm?” Aramis hums, looking up at Porthos – blinking once, then smiling at him sweetly. Perfectly at ease. He has no idea how much Porthos is already squirming. 

Porthos blows out a long breath and says, voice tight, “Out of all the people in Paris, you can’t be serious about this.” 

Now that it’s clear Porthos is being serious, Aramis shifts a little to look at him properly. He frowns now, brow knitting together. Porthos holds steady, unwilling to relent on this. He’s kept quiet about it long enough and there’s – really no fun way to have this conversation. This is the fifth time he’s seen Aramis do it and he just can’t pretend he hasn’t seen it.

“What do you mean?” Aramis finally asks, when Porthos doesn’t offer any sort of explanation. 

Porthos breathes out. “Out of all the people in Paris… you can’t seriously be looking at Treville like that. It’s _Treville._ ” 

That he even needs to clarify this – to even have this conversation – is what really sets Porthos on edge. And he knows he’s rattled. And he knows that Aramis has been far away from Paris for a long time, far away from the people he knows and the people who love him, and he doubts there was much going on at the monastery in way of flirting, but still—

Aramis checking Treville out is just really not okay with Porthos, no matter how he tries to convince himself that he’s misinterpreting the once-overs Aramis keeps casting Treville’s way whenever he visits. 

Aramis blinks at him once – and then actually has the decency to look embarrassed. He actually blushes – a rarity in itself when it comes to Aramis. Usually if he’s flushed, it’s during or right after sex. He doesn’t tend to get embarrassed – shameless as he is – but this is enough to make him look, quite suddenly, utterly awkward. And good, because if Porthos has to feel stupidly uncomfortable with all this, Aramis should have to, too. 

“It isn’t… what you think,” Aramis finally says after a painfully long silence stretches between them. 

“What is it then?” Porthos asks, desperate for an explanation that isn’t his best friend staring at his surrogate father’s ass. 

Aramis gets even more flustered – which only alarms Porthos more. It’s true that they’re still getting used to navigating one another’s spaces again, still treading lightly, still uncertain what they can and can’t say to each other – but Aramis never used to be this tentative when talking about anything to Porthos.

“I only was thinking… how handsome you’d look in that uniform. That’s all,” Aramis finally relents. And, really, it’s not even close to being the most outrageous thing Aramis has ever said to him, but it still makes Porthos blush, too. 

And how ridiculous. It’s like they’re young men again, barely old enough to know anything about sex. This shouldn’t be the thing that flusters them both – and yet here they are, standing around like a couple of idiots, both of them flushed. Aramis gives a small, nervous laugh and then looks down at his feet with a shrug. 

“That’s all,” he says again, “I promise.” 

Porthos nods stiffly, suddenly finding the buttons of his coat overly important and interesting, because now he’s thinking about it, too, and really the fact that it’s _Treville’s_ uniform only makes this entire conversation so much worse. 

Aramis laughs again, an octave higher than he usually laughs. And then after a moment, Porthos starts to laugh, too – nervous energy, slight relief, and that kindling of desire deep in his gut. Aramis somehow always gets these reactions out of him – but it’s a relief to laugh about it rather than stew in the awkwardness. He laughs with Aramis, and Aramis’ laugh soon pitches lower into its normal sound – and his shoulders relax and Porthos glances up to meet Aramis’ eyes – and they’re warm and gentle and, for a moment, he feels normal again. 

And the next day, if Treville can’t somehow find his uniform – well, Porthos and Aramis obviously don’t know anything. They’re perfectly innocent.


End file.
